


Shiny things

by elareine



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Bonding, But also, Character Study, Dealing With Trauma, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Mild Language, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, in a gen way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-15 06:39:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13025376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elareine/pseuds/elareine
Summary: Five times the Niffler was really helpful to Percival Graves, and the one time he wasn't.





	Shiny things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lynndyre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynndyre/gifts).



> Dear lynndyre, I hope you enjoy this. 
> 
> Many many thanks to prettylittlepliers for the beta.

One

Graves came out of the lamp yelling.

As soon as he’d felt the environment change, he’d drawn his wand and got a firing charm ready, because he was expecting Grindelwald to be there. After all, that evil son of a bitch had been the one to put him inside this lamp. He hadn’t been able to use his magic while inside the damn thing, but he’d sure show the evil wizard that he hadn’t forgotten how to use it.

This time, he wouldn’t catch Graves by surprise.

...except there was no one there. No one human, at least.

Huh.

Graves blinked.

The little black animal that held the lamp (his living space for Merlin knew how many years - Graves wanted to kick it) blinked back.

“Are you Grindelwald?”

Rather sensibly, the animal didn’t answer.

“What was I thinking,” Graves muttered, but just to be sure, he threw a revealing charm. Nothing happened. Good. Somehow, he doubted Grindelwald would turn into something that fluffy, anyway.

The creature glared at him and inched the lamp closer to his chest.

Graves snorted. “Don’t worry, I don’t want it.” It wasn’t like he was about to charge Grindelwald with kidnapping and unlawful imprisonment. The wizard had far worse charges pending against him already. “Actually, tell you what: you make sure that I never have to see that damn thing again and you can keep it forever.”

With a pleased chirp and one last belly rub (and was _that_ how he had been freed? Rubbing a magic lamp? _Seriously?_ ), the lamp disappeared. The creature’s focus shifted away from Graves, clearly looking for its next target.

Graves sighed and bent down. “Sorry, little fella. You’re a magical creature that appeared at a crime scene. I need to make sure MACUSA is safe from Grindelwald, and I’m afraid you’re coming along.”

With his saviour indignantly squawking where it was tugged under his arm, Graves disapparated.

 

Two 

“You found Newt’s Niffler!” weren’t exactly the first words Graves had expected to hear from Ms. Goldstein upon his rather dramatic return to the job, but what was normal these days?

“Newt?” he asked. “Mr. Scamander, I presume? Seraphina has filled me in some.”

“Oh, right”, Ms. Goldstein sighed. “Sorry. Welcome back, sir. We missed you.”

Graves very carefully didn’t say _Well, once you finally noticed I’d been replaced by Grindelwald you did_.

Instead, he shifted the - the Niffler in his hands, holding him up by the waist like a toddler. “This creature was the one who found me, or rather, the precious lamp I was imprisoned in.”

There was a weird thought on Tina’s face. “He likes those. Precious or sparkly things, I mean.”

“Well, I’m lucky he does, or…”

As soon as he said that, he knew it was the wrong thing to say, too much of a reminder of what stood between them, and Ms. Goldstein proved him right by quickly saying: “I was looking for him. Newt had to go to Iowa - long story - and… actually, he hasn’t escaped from you yet.”

She said that as if she had just noticed.

“Uh, no?” The Niffler had mostly been calm in his hands.

“How about you keep him?” Tina suggested. “At least for now. I’m sure Newt wouldn’t mind, as long as he’s in good hands.”

As if he might mistreat the creature!

But then, Graves remembered, they had good reason to distrust him. Ms. Goldstein and he had gotten along well before he’d disappeared. He’d considered her a co-worker with a lot of potential. Maybe even a friend.

But who could tell how Grindelwald had poisoned her mind? How many subtle lies he had whispered in her ear, how he’d perverted a mentor-mentee-relationship until there was nothing but ruins?

Graves was afraid to ask.

He’d already lost years of his life and his reputation to the man. If those around him wanted to pretend they didn’t hold a grudge against him for allowing Grindelwald to infiltrate them, he couldn’t bring himself to stop them.

All he could do was prove himself.

So he just said: “I will take good care of him,” and prayed that one day, it would be enough again.

 

Three 

“Niffler, you are now an official member of the Magical Law Enforcement Department at the American Ministry of Magic.” Graves did his best to look serious, but not like he was planning something. He was pretty sure the Niffler could read facial expressions. “I will therefore give you…”

He paused.

The Niffler leant forward.

“This leash.” Graves drew it out from behind his back. He had fashioned a glittery one. Maybe it would help.

The Niffler shook his head.

“Yes, you will." 

The Niffler’s response to that was to zoom across the room. Since it was a particularly large one, with quite a few shiny things (like, say, the chandeliers), Graves had no choice but to follow. “Stop!”

Of course, the Niffler didn’t. Instead, he zoomed around a corner. Graves followed at high speed - and barely avoided skidding into the president.

Seraphina raised an eyebrow at him. “Mr. Graves?”

“Madam President. I was just - just - following the Niffler,” he finished lamely, pointing at the little creature - which was sitting there on the ground, looking up with adorable eyes as if it was tame and absolutely harmless, not to mention well-trained.

Seraphina stared at him and his glittery leash for just a little too long to be comfortable before she said, “Right. Have a good evening with your... untamable beast.”

With that, she walked off. The door fell shut behind her.

And for the first time in years, Percival Graves laughed. He laughed, and laughed, and at some point there might have been tears because a dam was broken, it was gone, but still he was laughing.

The Niffler sat there almost patiently, watching him the whole time. It would still be there when Graves stopped. 

There was comfort in that.

 

Four

The thing was. Graves was mostly alright. 

He went to his job every morning. He did his paperwork, went out on jobs alone and with other aurors, made arrests, filed more paperwork. At night, he was home alone in the apartment his girlfriend had long since moved out of, but that didn’t hurt as much as it used to, because he could still hear people outside. Before, he might have complained at the thinness of the walls and thrown a silencing charm. Now, he reveled in the knowledge that there were other people closeby. 

Mostly, Graves was doing alright. Except when he wasn’t. 

This wave of panic hadn’t even been triggered by anything specific. Maybe there’d been a hint of green fabric in the corner of his eye - faintly reminiscent of the waistcoat Grindelwald had been wearing, but nothing _solid_ . He wanted to yell at his brain, “What are you panicking _about_? You’re safe, for Merlin’s sake! Stop it!”  

At least he had been alone in his flat this time when it had started. The last thing Graves needed was some mediwitch trying to force a potion down his throat. It weren’t his lungs that were the problem here.

He still saw Grindelwald’s face in those moments. It hadn’t even been smug, was the thing. It was… bored. Like imprisoning him had just been a formality. Like Graves owed his life to the fact that Grindelwald couldn’t even be bothered to kill him.

It took him a long time to quiet down enough to notice the Niffler had crawled into his lap.

Graves felt too empty to be surprised. He just automatically brought up a hand to run through the bristly black coat. There was a faint vibration running through the small body, almost like a cat’s purr. Graves focused on that until his breathing had returned to normal. 

They sat there for a while longer, still.

Finally, Graves sighed. “I’ll change the colour of these curtains tomorrow."

 

Five

“Alright, go,” Graves ordered. 

The Niffler didn’t need to be told twice. Within seconds, he’d found the stash of perfume tucked away in a secret compartment in the main cabin of the small boat they were on. Those bottles didn’t contain normal perfume. No, the gentleman that owned the boat had laced them with unicorn-blood, for that special no-aging-treatment. Quite luckily they were sold in gold bottles. All in all, a successfully executed search warrant, but there was still one thing missing.

He turned to the boat’s owner. The man’s wand was out. That had been expected. Still, Graves had to conduct an interview here, and he wasn’t about to let a minor magical duel deter him.

“Tell me where you hid the foals. We know you get them into Europe somehow.”

The smuggler laughed. (Graves didn’t let it remind him of anyone.) “Why should I? The way I see it, you got me on some minor charges, and we both got wands. Why implicate myself?” 

Graves calmly replied, “I’ll take you down either way. You can decide how gentle it’s going to be, and how long the jail time that follows.” 

“No, see,” the man took a step closer, “the way I see it, you want something from me. You’re not going to hurt me. I, however…”

Then he suddenly had a Niffler attached to his leg. Huh. Now that Graves thought about it, those teeth looked quite sharp.

“What-” the man lowered his wand in surprise.

Graves saw his chance, quickly shouting “Accio wand!” to disarm him. He was ready to stupefy him, too, but his opponent was distracted, anyway. 

“Get it away from me!” the smuggler yelled. Graves could see blood starting to discolor his pant leg. “I’ll tell you where they are - just - ouch, goddammit, get this thing away from me!”

Graves took his time.

 

And One

The French ambassador looked like he was about to cry.

“My room - thrashed! My precious gems - stolen! First no one serves me alcohol, and now this! Is this what you call hospitality here in the US?”

“I’m sure Auror Graves will find the thieves soon,” Seraphina soothed him. “Not many people could get through our magical barriers without leaving a trace.”

Graves was staring at the trashed room. It had been taken apart. Even the walls seemed to have been stripped, revealing what looked to be a small safe. Nothing of value, be it oh so small, had been left.

He had left the Niffler alone in his office while he had conducted an interrogation. When he’d returned, the little creature had been sitting in the same spot, looking content.

Oh, no. 

“Yes, Madam President,” Graves heard himself say, “They must have been very skilled thieves, indeed.”


End file.
